More Than Prestige
by Fleeting Illicit Delicious
Summary: Well then, Bakura Amane. Do you know of Egypt? Do you know the story of Kul Elna? Do you know that I have struck fear in the hearts of many?" "Oh I know many stories Mr. Thief King." Amane Bakura and Thief King Bakura.


**Disclaimer:** Kazuki Takahashi owns Yugioh. I'm just using his characters for a while. You should also know that the events in this fanfic never happened in the series.

**A/N:** It's kind of hard to write a story about Amane Bakura when she was only briefly mentioned. But maybe she was just as polite as her brother.

_There is something in our minds, which more than prestige, craves acceptance. _

* * *

There was no mistaking the unruly white hair. The desert coarse skin, the manical laugh. The mad purple eyes and unsettling scar. 

Thief King Bakura was at it again- raiding the souls of the dead out of their eternal slumber, slashing madly at guards who really couldn't match his speed even with their strength. Inhaling stolen delicacies and harboring treasures under mounds of colorful pilfered clothing.

"Get him!" Commanded one of the guards. Sweat trickled on his brow as he watched the thief escape on horseback.

There was a flurry of dust and the sound of a horse galloping and Thief King Bakura was out of sight into the unforgivable desert from whence he came.

The guards didn't risk their chances going into the endless sand dunes to follow him. It was better to stand strong over what they had left than to wander the desert blindly in search of a single thief.

There had been rumors that the Thief King wished death on the Pharaoh and that a god was on his side. Of course, those rumors were tossed away as mere fairy tales. Pharaoh needn't concern himself with petty threats, the army would protect their king. Yet, again and again, the Thief King became more daring and more clever in his attacks- his motives being brought to the light just like the gold he liberated out of tombs.

For now the guard would wait. A quiet veil was lifted over the guard camp as evening came. He knew nothing could be done about the missing articles of a former ruler's life. Pieces of their memory scattered and sold in the very desert sand where their bodies rested.

* * *

His head throbbed, blood pounding in his ears, as if he just woke from falling off his horse. The feeling underneath him was that of coarse, desert sand. 

He could feel no breeze, only the coolness of shade. The air around him was still.

Just where was he?

The Thief King opened his eyes.

He was under a colorless sand dune. The sky and earth too, were colorless- a gray too unreal to put into words. Perhaps his eyes had gone weary finally from looking at the sun for too long. That would be regrettable. What retribution could a blind king of thieves do?

Or had he finally succeeded in his quest of bringing vengeance. Had he drained the world of all its color in doing so?

He chuckled to himself. That would have been a unexpected result.

He stared out into the endless expanse playing with these thoughts. Then his eyes spotted something with color.

He saw a girl.

She was dressed in a blue dress, though she was accompanied by no gold or other trinkets that would symbolize her royalty. It looked like she had hollow black stones on her feet.

She walked in small footsteps until she was only an arm's length away from the Thief King. Then she stared at him with a curious expression on her face.

The only reason he didn't kill her in one quick motion was because she looked so much like himself, though her skin was pale and her face was placid. She was a child, much too young to be married off. Perhaps she was one of his spirits, yet the spirits never manifested themselves into their human forms. They perfered to be ghastly and metaphysical. They refused to think of themselves as human after what had happened to them. He too sometimes thought of himself as less than human.

Surely the innocent looking girl wasn't a spirit tormented with rage. Yet at the same time, she felt so familiar to him, as if he had met her long ago.

"Why are you here child?" He asked gruffly. "Are you another tormented soul that has come to ask for revenge? Or are you one of Ma'at's servants come to punish me?"

"No." She answered. "I'm afraid I'm none of those." Her smile was courteous and her mannerism was polite, the likes of which the Thief King had never known.

"Then why are you here?" He grunted, irritated at the girl's deviation.

"I've been looking for someone." She said in the same polite manner.

On instinct he searched her expression but found only honesty- though he wasn't sure he recognized it.

The King of Thieves gave another cold grunt. "Then what is your name and where do you come from?" He was suddenly interested in this strange child.

"My name is Bakura Amane." She proclaimed politely. "I'm sorry, but I do not know where I come from."

"Two names. That's odd isn't it?"

The Thief King got up and studied the girl closely. There was no mistaking the unruly white hair. He had no idea what Amane meant, but Bakura- that was his name. Perhaps she had been one of his kin after all.

_Perhaps_...

"You say you've forgotten where you've come from?" If this spirit had forgotten something like her gruesome death then she couldn't possibly have been from Kul Elna. All the spirits knew of their untimely ends, they echoed it in his ears, in his waking and sleeping hours. He was never free of their tormented moans.

But here- in this place- it seemed like they had gone quiet all of a sudden.

"Yes. I suppose I have." She said sadly. "Would you by any chance know where this place is?" She looked around at the land scape. He followed her glances, staring straight out into the world they were in. The shapes of the dunes were just as he remembered them and the sky had the same depth, however colorless. He felt as if he had plunged under water and was watching the ever flowing surface above.

"No, I do not." He answered in a gruff manner. He could sense no hostility in her, nothing in her that suggested she would flee if he should attack her all of sudden. Strangely, he had no desire to harm her at all.

Still, he found it annoying that the girl, Bakura Amane, wasn't the least bit afraid of him. He decided to make his presence known.

"Did you know that I am the King of Thieves?" He asked her. "I've stolen from the richest tombs of Egypt and the Pharaoh and his ridiculous subjects have yet to catch me. They call me Thief King Bakura."

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Thief King." The girl bowed. The whole process stunned him. He had never been treated with such pleasantries before. Those who didn't know him treated him like the lowest scum of the earth. Those who did wished to kill him. There was no place for such soft introductions in his life. Was this what if felt like to be Pharaoh, to be showered with respect and kindness? The king of thieves scoffed at himself. Kindness wasn't something he could steal, so it was of no concern to him.

"Well then, Bakura Amane. Do you know of Egypt? Do you know the story of Kul Elna? Do you know that I have struck fear in the hearts of many women and children- even men. Even the Pharaoh's army."

"Oh I know many stories Mr. Thief King." Came her reply, soft and polite. "I know there is a place very far away from here. There's a boy who goes to school every day. The girls are very nice to him but the boys and teachers pick on him. I know there is a vending machine that the boy goes to. He always buys Calpis or Pocari Sweat because he likes sweet things. I know he feels lonely but he refuses to get close to people. And I know about Egypt to. There are grand tombs and interesting marketplaces which sell every thing you could possibly imagine." Her eyes glittered, as if she herself was imagining what she was saying.

"And how do you know about these things?" Things Thief King Bakura had never even heard of before. Was she one of those senile children that had been out in the sun too long? He supposed she wasn't. Something told him the girl wasn't even from Egypt. But that was ridiculous because Egypt was the only thing he had ever known.

"I'm not really sure how I know. I just do. I feel as if someone very far away tells me these things..." She bowed her head. Her soft white hair fell over her face and she gave a childish grin. "Perhaps it is the stories of that boy. I feel indebted to him for telling me these things. It makes me feel like I have some sort of purpose: to find him and thank him for his kindness."

The king smiled.

"The spirits of Kul Elna, they too tell me things. They resound their terrible deaths to me in dreams, even though I still have my memories of them, they want to make certain that I never forget.

"I too have a purpose but unlike you I do not wish pleasantries on anyone." He said. It was strange proclaiming this to Amane Bakura. There was nothing he could benefit from doing this. But her kindness and patience felt warm and inviting...it even felt vaguely familiar. He continued. "Men live through their stories. As long as I live the story of Kul Elna shall never be erased from history like the Pharaoh and his subjects have been trying to do. I shall make it known through every street and marketplace and even in the Pharaoh's mighty hall. I will shout it in their ears so they cannot deny it any longer. That is why I will not die or be captured by his army. I'll never stop my reign of terror until everyone knows of the massacre of Kul Elna!"

Amane laughed and showed a sweet smile. "That sounds amazing Mr. Thief King, just like a fairy tale."

He looked down at her. Her eyes were dark brown. It reminded him of the mud banks of the Nile. He liked to lie in that cool mud when traveling became too hot and unbearable. He often thought of the cool mud when there was no water in sight.

He felt that same calm while looking into them.

"You thinks so? It seems that you are the only outsider that has shown me support on this journey of mine. Would you like to join me? A spirit in your form would be company to me through those long treks in the desert."

She thought for a while, but the answer was evident to him. "I'm sorry but I cannot Mr. Thief King. I think I am..." She paused, as if her words were hard to place.

This was no surprise to the king of thieves. He knew he could rely on no help from the world that had taken everything from him. Much less a little, delicate child like Amane.

A child like Amane.

He had been a child once. He could remember the clean crisp air over his head and the laughter that shook his lungs until they hurt. There was always warmth. When the sun could no longer heat the world he would go inside and stay by the fire, he'd stare at those brilliant flames until his eyes slipped asleep. Childhood had been a different world for him. But that was the world the Pharaoh didn't care about. The people of Egypt didn't care about the child who lost his family and friends. How could they?

Their warped sense of justice could only be contended with the Thief King's own sense of vindicitiveness.

He had waited, been waiting since he saw their 99 bodies tossed into the boiling pot. Now he felt he was old enough. Strong enough to stand up to the Pharaoh for his subjects' wrong doing.

But here in this quiet oasis, things like hate and revenge felt so far away.

"Tell me Mr. Thief King, do you have any family?"

He let his thoughts wander for a moment. If he had been left to live a life in Kul Elna would he have had a family? Would he have been married? Would he have had sons and daughters by now?

"The spirits. They are my family. They are..." He broke off. A vision of orange ember flames came from his memories. As a boy he would rest his head on the lap of an older family member or whoever was in the house with him at the moment. They would invite him into their grasp and would smile down at him, their eyes in shadows- either from the lack of light or the lack of details for him to recall. They would tell him soothing words as he stared at the flames. The crackling from the hearth and their whispers would become one eventually. He thought of the spirits as they were now. He couldn't distinguish between them, they all looked alike and they all spoke of revenge. He wasn't sure which of them had comforted him as a boy. He doubted any of them even concerned themselves with such memories anymore. He shouldn't have either- there were more important things to do. "Why do you ask? What concern is it to you?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Thief King." She looked down at the ground again. "Yet sometimes I feel lonely, looking for this person. I feel I must have a family out there somewhere that misses me. I miss them too, even if I can't remember anything about them. Do you get that feeling too sometimes?" She looked up at him with a sad smile.

He gave her the same smile. "Of course." It shocked him to be able to sympathize with another human being- even if Amane wasn't really human.

"Come here child." He ushered her into his grasp. Contrary to what the thief thought her body was warm- not one of a corpse or corporeal form. He hadn't felt a body close to him for what seemed like an eternity. It brought him an immeasurable joy, one which was unlike robbing tombs or plotting against the Pharaoh.

_Men live through their stories_. He said to himself replacing his earlier pride with a tinge of sadness. How could _his_ stories possibly live on? His life became so absorb with Kul Elna, or the way he remembered it, that he had lost the ability to see himself. Was it better that way- to take away the pain and loss and suffering with rage and anger? Or was it far worse to lose his individualism- his only footprint in the world being a bloodshed throne instead of a small home filled with children.

Without the spirits' prodding it was far easier to think of these things. It scared him and comforted him at the same time. Yet he knew there was no changing things. He'd have his revenge on the Pharaoh and maybe that would be enough. Maybe then the souls would pass on and he would be left to his own life, though he doubted he even remembered how.

He watched the gray landscape. It's stillness made him sleepy. "Now tell me of this person you are looking for. What does this person look like?"

"It must sound odd to you, but I don't know what this person looks like."

"How are you so sure the person you search for isn't me? How are you so sure that you aren't a lost soul of mine?" He said, nuzzling her soft hair. He thought about what the sheperds must feel like. Did it feel this warm to find a lost calf?

"For all I know I could be, I could have been at one time." She said. Her voice faltered, though he knew she wasn't afraid of him. "But I have no recognition to Kul Elna, the place that you speak of, so I couldn't be your spirit...at least not one who could do you any good on your journey."

He held her close, loving the feeling of the embrace. It felt like having family again and Amane Bakura was familiar enough to him.

"Will you tell me a story Amane?" He whispered into her hair.

"Of course Mr. Thief King. I'd love to." Though he couldn't see her face he was sure she must have been smiling.

"Tell me of the boy. He sounds interesting."

She began her story but he found it hard to listen.

His gaze began to slip in and out. He needed water all of a sudden.

He listened to her voice, as crisp and clean as the sky yet as indistinguishable as a rain cloud against a moonless night.

He blinked and noticed a high yellow sand dune over him.

She told him of strange roads and buildings not even the Pharaoh could ever hope to build. _Telling him soothing words until he fell asleep._

He shut his eyes and listened to the words. The king of thieves rested in the shade until the warmth of her body disappeared, giving way to a sun that burned his eyes and a desert which ignited his soul.

* * *

He woke to the most brilliant desert sunset he had ever seen. The sky was blood red and pinkish, like fresh cut organs. Orange and purple streaked across the sky like the rich treasures of tombs. 

But his gaze was on the dark brown fading color of the earth. That was where the real treasures were.

He counted his spirits, their purple embodiments against the sky. 98. Perhaps one had passed on. He doubted his thrill of thievery ever would.

* * *

**About the soda:** The sodas listed here are real brands. I claim no ownership of them. They are sold in vending machines, which are almost everywhere in Japan. In America, Calpis is known as Calpico- a non-carbonated milk based soda. Pocari Sweat is a lot like gatorade water.

**A/N:** I am forever stricken by a doujinshi called Samsara. It features Thief King Bakura x Ryou (tendershipping also) and it's a good story regardless if you can read Japanese or not. What I love most is Thief King Bakura's personality in it. He knows he has a purpose and he gives up a seemingly normal life to do it- or at least that's what I gathered from it.

_Reviews make me skip around my house. Please review._


End file.
